The gigantic, disgusting, protruding mole just above my left eye is gone.
A dermatologist removed it this week, years after my wife, Jenny, started bugging me about seeing one to look at all the moles, growths and weird things growing throughout my body on my skin.
For years, I refused to give in to her wish for me to see a dermatologist. I’m stubborn – it’s in my family’s blood – and I figured it would be a waste of time, as well as money. I’ve always been a moley person, along with both my mother and grandmother – also in our blood. Fortunately, the bad things that sometimes come with moles, skin cancer and melanoma, are not in our blood, so I felt safe in not going to the dermatologist.
Jenny refused to put the issue to rest, telling me I should make an appointment. I was steadfast in my determination not to, mostly to retain my pride in being the most stubborn person in the marriage.
“I really wish you would see someone about those moles,” she would tell me.
“I’ve had them since I was a kid,” I would reply. “When you married me, you married my moles.”
“I guess that makes me Mrs. Mole Steuck.”
I realized late last summer I need to stop being stubborn, and for my wife’s happiness I should have my moles checked out. I had her make an appointment, which was scheduled for November.
Several weeks before the appointment, the dermatologist’s office called and said the doctor needed to reschedule, much to my pleasure. Even better, their next available date was not until March. I happily said yes to the new date.
My happiness turned to sadness when Jenny informed me the dermatologist could remove my giant mole above my eye during the appointment. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?” I asked. “I wouldn’t have argued with you about the appointment.”
“I assumed you knew that,” she said.
I didn’t. My stubbornness got in the way of me seeing some of the benefits to this appointment, and now I was left waiting for something I really wanted that I could have had done years before.
Fortunately, March came quickly. Normally apprehensive about any doctor appointments, I was eager to get to this one, arriving early and hoping they could get me in early. They did, and when the dermatologist saw me, she asked me why I was there.
“To get this thing (pointing to the giant mole above my eye) removed,” I said. “Oh yeah, and to have you look at all my other moles, per my wife’s request.”
And then she said something that almost crushed my spirit. “Well, I can’t just remove a mole because you find it ugly. We need a reason to remove it.”
I was too honest to make up any reason other than my intended reason – it’s ugly – so I immediately assumed my mole would remain. Thankfully, she found a reason. “Do you have an old driver’s license?” she asked.
In my wallet I had my current license, taken in October, as well as my old one, taken many years prior to that one. She had me take them out, and then compared the two photos, noting the mole had grown over the years, giving her a reason to remove it.
After examining my body, she found three other moles she wanted to remove, for precautionary reasons and to have them tested. As long as she was taking out the ugly one, I was fine with whatever she did.
Removing the moles was painless, and now those spots are healing. The dermatologist said she doesn’t think she’ll find anything wrong, but she’ll call in about a week to let me know for sure.
I’m not worried, and now Jenny and I are both happy. She’s no longer “Mrs. Mole Steuck” (technically, she still is, as my moles are still there – but she’s much happier about them), and I’m free of an ugly sight I never thought could be gone.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Burmese pythons invade Floriday; it's time to move Disney World
Burmese pythons invade Florida; it’s time to move Disney World
By SCOTT STEUCK
of The Gazette
After visiting Disney World in Florida in January, I found myself sort of wanting to move to the state. But after watching an episode of PBS’ “Nature” series, titled “Invasion of the Giant Pythons,” on Sunday, Feb. 21, I quickly changed my mind.
The episode focused on Florida’s growing Burmese python problem. The snake, which is not native to Florida, or anywhere in the western hemisphere for that matter, has become a nuisance in the Everglades and surrounding region, as owners who once had the snakes as pets have released them after they grew too big for their liking. Also, some exotic pet warehouses that once stored them were destroyed by hurricanes, setting many of them free.
Florida’s environment has allowed the snakes to thrive, and now environmentalists there are concerned the invasive species poses a threat to native wildlife. Alligators aren’t even safe, as the pythons, which can reach 20 feet in length and 200 pounds in weight, prey on them, along with any other animals that cross their paths.
I’ve always been a fan of all snakes, and before I watched the episode I thought it was kind of cool the state had pythons slithering around its swamps. I’ve always thought Wisconsin is lacking in the kinds of cool animals it has, and by cool I mean animals that could pose a danger to humans, such as alligators, scorpions, tarantulas, sharks, piranhas, grizzly bears, walruses, bison, bighorn sheep, gorillas, platypuses and killer whales. Wisconsin does have mountain lions now, as well as a few timber rattlers, but both are so rare here I’m pretty sure I’ll never see one in the wild. The state has plenty of black bears, along with a healthy wolf population up north, but neither is as menacing as some of the other animals I’ve mentioned.
In watching “Invasion of the Giant Pythons,” I saw how the snake can latch onto its prey with its mouth full of jagged, piercing teeth; then wrap its bulky body around its victim, squeezing it to death; and finally swallowing it, letting its stomach acids dissolve it for digestive purposes over the course of the next several days. It’s a death I’ll never want to experience and one that could be avoided by not living there.
To combat the problem, Florida Fish and Wildlife will open a special season March 9-April 17 for Burmese pythons, along with one for two other invasive species that are also wreaking havoc, African rock pythons and Nile monitor lizards. Officials warn the meat from these species is probably too toxic to eat, due to high mercury levels, but their skins can be profitable, as cowboy boots made from python skin can be worth as much as $700.
An awful lot of hunters will be needed, because officials estimate the number of wild pythons to be in the tens of thousands. During the PBS show, the film crew visited an abandoned rocket testing site in the Everglades and found quite a few of the snakes crawling around the place. The crew also interviewed one snake hunter who said he’s killed more than 50 of the snakes on just one stretch of road.
I don’t think I could handle encountering just one of those snakes. As a teenager, I once came across a den of grass snakes in our back yard. I had fun catching them, and then freaking others out, including my sister, simply by dangling one in front of them.
A couple of summers ago my young son and I came across a dead grass snake on the road, and both of us wanted to take it back to my mother-in-law, as we knew she’s deathly afraid of snakes. We chose not to, a decision my wife says was wise because it may have brought a ban to our use of the lake house there. I still tease my mother-in-law that we’re going to find a live snake and bring it back to her.
If I ever came across a Burmese python, though, she can be assured I won’t bring it back because I’ll be running in the opposite direction as quickly as I can.
I know it’s highly unlikely that would ever happen in Wisconsin, but it’s possible. About 10 years ago, while working at a newspaper in Wautoma, someone’s pet alligator escaped from his house, and it stayed on the loose for quite a long time. The sheriff at the time, Pat Fox, caught it after getting summoned to its location by someone who spotted it. Like the late Steve Irwin, he had to wrestle the alligator in order to catch it, solidifying a legendary status in his place among the county’s sheriffs.
I’m assuming sheriffs and other officers don’t want to risk their lives and waste time catching these exotic animals, so it surprises me stricter ordinances and laws aren’t in place prohibiting people from owning them. Then again, our rule makers aren’t exactly known for passing laws that actually make sense, so it doesn’t really surprise me Florida is being invaded by pythons.
I’m just hoping they never reach Disney World. I don’t want to have to worry about finding a giant snake by my foot when I get in a Tea Cup.
By SCOTT STEUCK
of The Gazette
After visiting Disney World in Florida in January, I found myself sort of wanting to move to the state. But after watching an episode of PBS’ “Nature” series, titled “Invasion of the Giant Pythons,” on Sunday, Feb. 21, I quickly changed my mind.
The episode focused on Florida’s growing Burmese python problem. The snake, which is not native to Florida, or anywhere in the western hemisphere for that matter, has become a nuisance in the Everglades and surrounding region, as owners who once had the snakes as pets have released them after they grew too big for their liking. Also, some exotic pet warehouses that once stored them were destroyed by hurricanes, setting many of them free.
Florida’s environment has allowed the snakes to thrive, and now environmentalists there are concerned the invasive species poses a threat to native wildlife. Alligators aren’t even safe, as the pythons, which can reach 20 feet in length and 200 pounds in weight, prey on them, along with any other animals that cross their paths.
I’ve always been a fan of all snakes, and before I watched the episode I thought it was kind of cool the state had pythons slithering around its swamps. I’ve always thought Wisconsin is lacking in the kinds of cool animals it has, and by cool I mean animals that could pose a danger to humans, such as alligators, scorpions, tarantulas, sharks, piranhas, grizzly bears, walruses, bison, bighorn sheep, gorillas, platypuses and killer whales. Wisconsin does have mountain lions now, as well as a few timber rattlers, but both are so rare here I’m pretty sure I’ll never see one in the wild. The state has plenty of black bears, along with a healthy wolf population up north, but neither is as menacing as some of the other animals I’ve mentioned.
In watching “Invasion of the Giant Pythons,” I saw how the snake can latch onto its prey with its mouth full of jagged, piercing teeth; then wrap its bulky body around its victim, squeezing it to death; and finally swallowing it, letting its stomach acids dissolve it for digestive purposes over the course of the next several days. It’s a death I’ll never want to experience and one that could be avoided by not living there.
To combat the problem, Florida Fish and Wildlife will open a special season March 9-April 17 for Burmese pythons, along with one for two other invasive species that are also wreaking havoc, African rock pythons and Nile monitor lizards. Officials warn the meat from these species is probably too toxic to eat, due to high mercury levels, but their skins can be profitable, as cowboy boots made from python skin can be worth as much as $700.
An awful lot of hunters will be needed, because officials estimate the number of wild pythons to be in the tens of thousands. During the PBS show, the film crew visited an abandoned rocket testing site in the Everglades and found quite a few of the snakes crawling around the place. The crew also interviewed one snake hunter who said he’s killed more than 50 of the snakes on just one stretch of road.
I don’t think I could handle encountering just one of those snakes. As a teenager, I once came across a den of grass snakes in our back yard. I had fun catching them, and then freaking others out, including my sister, simply by dangling one in front of them.
A couple of summers ago my young son and I came across a dead grass snake on the road, and both of us wanted to take it back to my mother-in-law, as we knew she’s deathly afraid of snakes. We chose not to, a decision my wife says was wise because it may have brought a ban to our use of the lake house there. I still tease my mother-in-law that we’re going to find a live snake and bring it back to her.
If I ever came across a Burmese python, though, she can be assured I won’t bring it back because I’ll be running in the opposite direction as quickly as I can.
I know it’s highly unlikely that would ever happen in Wisconsin, but it’s possible. About 10 years ago, while working at a newspaper in Wautoma, someone’s pet alligator escaped from his house, and it stayed on the loose for quite a long time. The sheriff at the time, Pat Fox, caught it after getting summoned to its location by someone who spotted it. Like the late Steve Irwin, he had to wrestle the alligator in order to catch it, solidifying a legendary status in his place among the county’s sheriffs.
I’m assuming sheriffs and other officers don’t want to risk their lives and waste time catching these exotic animals, so it surprises me stricter ordinances and laws aren’t in place prohibiting people from owning them. Then again, our rule makers aren’t exactly known for passing laws that actually make sense, so it doesn’t really surprise me Florida is being invaded by pythons.
I’m just hoping they never reach Disney World. I don’t want to have to worry about finding a giant snake by my foot when I get in a Tea Cup.
Favre vs. Schwarzenegger debate comes to self-ending conclusion
If Brett Favre, the quarterback the vast majority of this country thinks is the greatest of all time except for the people in Wisconsin, and Arnold Schwarzenegger were to get in a fight, who would win?
I’ll admit, it’s a stupid question that probably shouldn’t take up valuable space in a newspaper with limited space that could be used for better things, but I ask because it’s become a 13-year-long argument I’ve had with former co-workers at another newspaper, and I want it settled.
It began innocently enough in 1997, when the Green Bay Packers, under Favre’s leadership, were in the midst of a failed campaign to defend the Super Bowl title they had won earlier in the year. One of those co-workers, Bonnie, kept talking about Favre as though he was mankind’s salvation for all of its problems. This, of course, was before Bono from U2 unofficially took on that role.
I politely listened to her rhetoric, nodding approval to the things she said mainly because, as the new guy there, I didn’t want to get on her bad side, nor the bad side of our boss, Mary, who wholeheartedly agreed with everything she said. In fact, Mary often added points Bonnie may have missed to make the argument about Favre’s greatness stronger.
One day, in a bad mood about something I can’t recall, I finally spoke up when I couldn’t take their spiel anymore. “Brett Favre is not a god,” I said. “Practically anybody could beat him in a fight.”
“Name one?” they asked.
My brain immediately conjured up someone with some of the biggest muscles of all time: Arnold Schwarzenegger. At the time, he was already past his prime, and his films hadn’t been doing well at the box office. People suspected he had political aspirations, but he was still more than six years away from becoming governor of California. Thinking back, I should have chosen a better opponent for Favre, one they couldn’t have questioned, but it was still a solid choice any right-minded person wouldn’t question.
But they weren’t right-minded when it came to Favre, and they attacked my response. “He can barely speak English,” Bonnie said.
“He’s foreign and English isn’t his native tongue. How many languages can you speak?” I retorted.
“He doesn’t have any brains,” Mary argued.
“Have you seen ‘Pumping Iron,’ the documentary in which he uses his sharp wit to torment Lou Ferigno, the Incredible Hulk, into losing the Mr. Universe contest? The guy is one of the sharpest minds in Hollywood,” I answered.
“He’s slow,” Bonnie said.
“Favre’s not much faster,” I said, not realizing 13 years later if he would have had any speed he could have ran a few yards, avoided an interception, and most likely returned to the Super Bowl for the third time.
“Favre is street smart,” said Bonnie.
I’m not sure what made her believe he was street smart, as he grew up in rural Mississippi, far away from any streets where he may have needed any such smarts. Most likely, he had a hunting rifle with him at all times, so the ability to defend himself did not rest with physical strength, but rather with the ability to fire a rifle accurately at a target. And judging by the lack of stories out there about Favre ever doing this, I’m sure he never even got in situations he needed to defend himself.
I decided I needed to end the argument.
“He was ‘Conan the Barbarian.’ He knocked out a camel with one punch.”
The argument should have ended with that statement, but Bonnie had to point out “Conan” was just a film.
“Yes, but people seeing it believed it could be real because Arnold had the muscles and looked like a person who could knock out a camel with one punch.”
Again, argument ended.
But, no. They kept insisting Favre’s “street smarts” and “speed” would take down Schwarzenegger’s muscles quickly.
It was clear neither of us was going to back down on our positions.
Relying on others hasn’t helped us settle the argument. Although the majority of people I’ve talked to about this argument agree with me, a few have taken their side.
I’m confident this argument could have ended several times, had they used a few opportunities in which they’ve had conversations with Favre himself to poise the question to him. I’m sure he would have agreed with me.
To this day, when I see my former co-workers, the argument continues to come up. Although they now feel betrayed and hurt by Favre, they still refuse to acknowledge I am the winner in the argument, just like I’ll refuse to ever concede victory to them.
I was supposed to go to the Wisconsin Newspaper Association Annual Convention last week with Mary, but she backed out at the last minute. I’m pretty sure she knew I may have been able to get her to accept my win in the debate. I’m not letting her off that easy, though. This column is my final say in the matter, as I use it to declare victory.
I’ll admit, it’s a stupid question that probably shouldn’t take up valuable space in a newspaper with limited space that could be used for better things, but I ask because it’s become a 13-year-long argument I’ve had with former co-workers at another newspaper, and I want it settled.
It began innocently enough in 1997, when the Green Bay Packers, under Favre’s leadership, were in the midst of a failed campaign to defend the Super Bowl title they had won earlier in the year. One of those co-workers, Bonnie, kept talking about Favre as though he was mankind’s salvation for all of its problems. This, of course, was before Bono from U2 unofficially took on that role.
I politely listened to her rhetoric, nodding approval to the things she said mainly because, as the new guy there, I didn’t want to get on her bad side, nor the bad side of our boss, Mary, who wholeheartedly agreed with everything she said. In fact, Mary often added points Bonnie may have missed to make the argument about Favre’s greatness stronger.
One day, in a bad mood about something I can’t recall, I finally spoke up when I couldn’t take their spiel anymore. “Brett Favre is not a god,” I said. “Practically anybody could beat him in a fight.”
“Name one?” they asked.
My brain immediately conjured up someone with some of the biggest muscles of all time: Arnold Schwarzenegger. At the time, he was already past his prime, and his films hadn’t been doing well at the box office. People suspected he had political aspirations, but he was still more than six years away from becoming governor of California. Thinking back, I should have chosen a better opponent for Favre, one they couldn’t have questioned, but it was still a solid choice any right-minded person wouldn’t question.
But they weren’t right-minded when it came to Favre, and they attacked my response. “He can barely speak English,” Bonnie said.
“He’s foreign and English isn’t his native tongue. How many languages can you speak?” I retorted.
“He doesn’t have any brains,” Mary argued.
“Have you seen ‘Pumping Iron,’ the documentary in which he uses his sharp wit to torment Lou Ferigno, the Incredible Hulk, into losing the Mr. Universe contest? The guy is one of the sharpest minds in Hollywood,” I answered.
“He’s slow,” Bonnie said.
“Favre’s not much faster,” I said, not realizing 13 years later if he would have had any speed he could have ran a few yards, avoided an interception, and most likely returned to the Super Bowl for the third time.
“Favre is street smart,” said Bonnie.
I’m not sure what made her believe he was street smart, as he grew up in rural Mississippi, far away from any streets where he may have needed any such smarts. Most likely, he had a hunting rifle with him at all times, so the ability to defend himself did not rest with physical strength, but rather with the ability to fire a rifle accurately at a target. And judging by the lack of stories out there about Favre ever doing this, I’m sure he never even got in situations he needed to defend himself.
I decided I needed to end the argument.
“He was ‘Conan the Barbarian.’ He knocked out a camel with one punch.”
The argument should have ended with that statement, but Bonnie had to point out “Conan” was just a film.
“Yes, but people seeing it believed it could be real because Arnold had the muscles and looked like a person who could knock out a camel with one punch.”
Again, argument ended.
But, no. They kept insisting Favre’s “street smarts” and “speed” would take down Schwarzenegger’s muscles quickly.
It was clear neither of us was going to back down on our positions.
Relying on others hasn’t helped us settle the argument. Although the majority of people I’ve talked to about this argument agree with me, a few have taken their side.
I’m confident this argument could have ended several times, had they used a few opportunities in which they’ve had conversations with Favre himself to poise the question to him. I’m sure he would have agreed with me.
To this day, when I see my former co-workers, the argument continues to come up. Although they now feel betrayed and hurt by Favre, they still refuse to acknowledge I am the winner in the argument, just like I’ll refuse to ever concede victory to them.
I was supposed to go to the Wisconsin Newspaper Association Annual Convention last week with Mary, but she backed out at the last minute. I’m pretty sure she knew I may have been able to get her to accept my win in the debate. I’m not letting her off that easy, though. This column is my final say in the matter, as I use it to declare victory.
Dishonesty by child breaks parents' hearts
For nearly five years my son, Braden, has been a source of nothing but pure pleasure for my wife, Jenny, and me. Ever since he was born on St. Patrick’s Day during a snowstorm in 2005, we’ve taken joy with everything he has done, both good and naughty, as the innocence only a child could display through his actions has always made us smile or laugh, or it has allowed us to add one more story to our files we could taunt him with when he’s older.
But he did something last week that was not so innocent and made me realize he’s growing up faster than I want him to grow up. He blatantly lied to me.
The lie occurred when I picked him up from his daycare. Like I usually do, I asked both his teacher and him what type of day he had. The daycare uses a color system – green for good, yellow for not-so good and red for bad – to assign a behavior rating for each child every day. Braden is usually yellow, while occasionally green and sometimes red, and we’ve been working with him to become green all the time.
When I arrived, he immediately told me he had a green day, much to my happiness. His teacher, who only had him for an hour or so, did not dispute him.
But when I was putting him in my car, I simply asked if he was on green at both schools – one school being the daycare and the other being the 4K classroom he goes to in the afternoon. He hesitated before saying yes.
His hesitation caused me to dig a little further. “So, if I called Miss Lindsey,” I asked, “she would tell me you were on green at 4K?”
This is the point where his lie fell apart. He started crying and insisted I shouldn’t call her, mainly because I didn’t have her number. Of course, I lied and said I did, and that I was indeed going to call her.
I assumed he would come clean then, with my empty threat exposing his lie. He kept crying, insisting I shouldn’t call and that he wasn’t on green.
This continued for 20 minutes until we got home. I explained the situation to Jenny. She agreed his actions seemed suspicious, and we asked him numerous times whether or not he was lying about his color, explaining we couldn’t understand why he was so opposed to us calling his teacher.
We finally agreed that he may be telling the truth, and that the issue would be resolved the next morning when I could ask his teacher about his day. Braden agreed to the measure, which made us think he wasn’t lying and that we were being too hard on him.
The next day, when I asked his teacher, I learned he was indeed lying, as he was on yellow. She said he wasn’t listening to her when the kids were sitting on the carpet during story time, a minor offense had he been honest about would have merited just a stern “don’t do it again” from us.
Instead, knowing he had been dishonest with us and that he tried until the last second to get away with it, I felt my heart being pulled apart in 12 different directions. One part was upset with the lie, the second part mad he couldn’t come clean with us when given the opportunity, the third part angry he was old enough to lie, the fourth part sad he wasn’t young enough to not lie, the fifth part disturbed he was naughty in the first place, the sixth part concerned we may have forced him to tell the fib, the seventh part irritated he wasn’t smart enough to lie in a way we could have remained oblivious to it, and the eighth part annoyed I’ve had to come up with so many synonyms to “upset” in describing my feelings without repeating myself.
Braden knew I was disappointed with him, so he became quiet, refusing to look me in the eye, give me a hug or say goodbye when I left.
In my car, on the way to work, I realized he was human, like the rest of us, and that I couldn’t expect perfection from him. I also realized we needed to address the situation, as we didn’t want him to think it was acceptable behavior.
After talking about it with Jenny, we decided we weren’t going to make him feel bad for his behavior by lecturing him about it. Instead, we decided, we were going to set up a consistent award-and-punishment system that would make our expectations clear to him.
On green days he would receive a quarter for his piggy bank, and on red days we’d take a quarter away. His piggy bank, which he can spend however he wishes when he has enough money, would neither increase nor decrease on yellow days.
He could only watch television in the evening if he had a green day, making it a reward for good behavior.
He crabbed at the rules at first, as we did not allow him to watch television that evening for his behavior the day before. He quickly realized, though, he was getting off easy for the crime, so he accepted it and had a good night playing with his toys.
After a week with these new rules, he seems to understand them. He’s avoided red days, but he’s only had a couple of green days. I’m hopeful that as we grow and learn as parents we’ll help him produce more of them. And I’m hopeful he won’t try pulling a fast one on us again until he’s at least a little older. I don’t want him perfecting his technique now, because then he may get away with bigger and scarier lies as a teen. I want to be able to stop them then, too.
But he did something last week that was not so innocent and made me realize he’s growing up faster than I want him to grow up. He blatantly lied to me.
The lie occurred when I picked him up from his daycare. Like I usually do, I asked both his teacher and him what type of day he had. The daycare uses a color system – green for good, yellow for not-so good and red for bad – to assign a behavior rating for each child every day. Braden is usually yellow, while occasionally green and sometimes red, and we’ve been working with him to become green all the time.
When I arrived, he immediately told me he had a green day, much to my happiness. His teacher, who only had him for an hour or so, did not dispute him.
But when I was putting him in my car, I simply asked if he was on green at both schools – one school being the daycare and the other being the 4K classroom he goes to in the afternoon. He hesitated before saying yes.
His hesitation caused me to dig a little further. “So, if I called Miss Lindsey,” I asked, “she would tell me you were on green at 4K?”
This is the point where his lie fell apart. He started crying and insisted I shouldn’t call her, mainly because I didn’t have her number. Of course, I lied and said I did, and that I was indeed going to call her.
I assumed he would come clean then, with my empty threat exposing his lie. He kept crying, insisting I shouldn’t call and that he wasn’t on green.
This continued for 20 minutes until we got home. I explained the situation to Jenny. She agreed his actions seemed suspicious, and we asked him numerous times whether or not he was lying about his color, explaining we couldn’t understand why he was so opposed to us calling his teacher.
We finally agreed that he may be telling the truth, and that the issue would be resolved the next morning when I could ask his teacher about his day. Braden agreed to the measure, which made us think he wasn’t lying and that we were being too hard on him.
The next day, when I asked his teacher, I learned he was indeed lying, as he was on yellow. She said he wasn’t listening to her when the kids were sitting on the carpet during story time, a minor offense had he been honest about would have merited just a stern “don’t do it again” from us.
Instead, knowing he had been dishonest with us and that he tried until the last second to get away with it, I felt my heart being pulled apart in 12 different directions. One part was upset with the lie, the second part mad he couldn’t come clean with us when given the opportunity, the third part angry he was old enough to lie, the fourth part sad he wasn’t young enough to not lie, the fifth part disturbed he was naughty in the first place, the sixth part concerned we may have forced him to tell the fib, the seventh part irritated he wasn’t smart enough to lie in a way we could have remained oblivious to it, and the eighth part annoyed I’ve had to come up with so many synonyms to “upset” in describing my feelings without repeating myself.
Braden knew I was disappointed with him, so he became quiet, refusing to look me in the eye, give me a hug or say goodbye when I left.
In my car, on the way to work, I realized he was human, like the rest of us, and that I couldn’t expect perfection from him. I also realized we needed to address the situation, as we didn’t want him to think it was acceptable behavior.
After talking about it with Jenny, we decided we weren’t going to make him feel bad for his behavior by lecturing him about it. Instead, we decided, we were going to set up a consistent award-and-punishment system that would make our expectations clear to him.
On green days he would receive a quarter for his piggy bank, and on red days we’d take a quarter away. His piggy bank, which he can spend however he wishes when he has enough money, would neither increase nor decrease on yellow days.
He could only watch television in the evening if he had a green day, making it a reward for good behavior.
He crabbed at the rules at first, as we did not allow him to watch television that evening for his behavior the day before. He quickly realized, though, he was getting off easy for the crime, so he accepted it and had a good night playing with his toys.
After a week with these new rules, he seems to understand them. He’s avoided red days, but he’s only had a couple of green days. I’m hopeful that as we grow and learn as parents we’ll help him produce more of them. And I’m hopeful he won’t try pulling a fast one on us again until he’s at least a little older. I don’t want him perfecting his technique now, because then he may get away with bigger and scarier lies as a teen. I want to be able to stop them then, too.
Grammy performances all about spectacle, not about music
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m getting old.
But this year’s Grammy Awards Sunday night was a big bore, despite being orchestrated by its producers to be anything but.
It was designed to feature unique collaborations that will never be duplicated again, and each performance was made to be a spectacle for peoples’ eyes.
The show included Green Day performing with the Broadway cast of “American Idiot,” Lady GaGa and Elton John hooking up for a duet, Pink drenching the audience with aerial acrobats, and the Black Eyed Peas getting robotic.
And judging by the ratings, the show was a huge success, because more people watched it than the previous six Grammys, demonstrating people do like the orchestration.
But ratings don’t mean a thing to me when I don’t enjoy the show. This weekend’s Super Bowl could garner the highest ratings ever, but if one team wins 45-0, then to me it won’t be worth the four hours I wasted watching it.
This year’s Grammys were a 45-0 blowout because the collaborations and eye candy completely drowned out the reason for holding the show in the first place – the music.
I haven’t missed a Grammy Show since high school, and I usually eagerly wait for it as it provides an opportunity for me to hear and see great performances from artists I like and also a chance for me to discover other artists I know little to nothing about. That even means Ricky Martin, an artist who, for a moment, became a household name after his career-making Grammy performance in 1999.
Through the years, artists like Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, U2, Stevie Wonder, Eminem, Tina Turner and Madonna have owned the Grammy stage, using it as a podium to demonstrate their greatness. Nearly every time they performed, it was usually about the music. Once in a while they did something special to enhance the song, but whatever they did, it didn’t take precedence over the song.
But a funny thing happened in 1998: “Soy Bomb.” While Bob Dylan was performing, a half-naked man unexpectedly joined him on stage with the words “Soy Bomb” written on his chest. It was crazy, but made even crazier because Dylan kept performing either unaware of the guy’s presence or unfazed by it, as though he’s seen stranger things in his storied career.
The next day “Soy Bomb” was the most talked about aspect of the show, giving show producers for the last 11 years a light-bulb moment they are still using. If an artist is paired with either an unimaginable collaborator, like Eminem and Elton John in 2001, or with interesting visuals, like Pink with a trapeze swing, water and a revealing outfit this year, then people won’t ever want to miss the Grammys.
It worked for a while, but now producers have forgotten the most important element: the music. Pink’s song was okay, but it didn’t blow me away. I was too busy thinking about the poor people below her who probably got quite wet. Green Day has always been enjoyable to watch, but with what seemed like 1,200 other people on stage, I could barely see where the band was. And the Black Eyed Peas. Don’t even get me started.
The one performance that wasn’t about the spectacle, Taylor Swift’s, featured, well, bad music. Once again, maybe I’m too old, but I don’t get her. She can’t sing. Her voice is weak and some of her notes verve into bad “American Idol” audition territory. Stevie Nicks, who joined her in the performance, quickly made people realize how terrible Swift is.
I know it’s horrible for me to say this, but I was hoping Nicks would push her off the stage and continue alone. Or if she would have been too nice to do this, Kanye West could have jumped on stage and done so, proving to the world he was right when he interrupted her acceptance speech at last year’s MTV Video Awards Show in saying others were better than her. Not just others, I’ll say, but pretty much everybody, even the guys who sang “Who Let the Dogs Out?”
Seriously, though, I don’t know why I should even care that the performance portion of the show is no longer relevant. After all, the awards portion stopped being relevant long ago. To prove this, I just need to provide one fact: the great Neil Young – one of the greatest artists of all time – finally received his first Grammy ever this year. Of course, it was for the most minor award possible, Best Boxed or Special Limited Edition Package. The packaging of this year’s Archives Box Set, not his music, was honored.
Good job Grammys. Here’s hoping next year will find you pairing Celine Dion with Smokey Robinson in a 3-D Michael Jackson tribute. Oops. You did that this year. Congratulations.
But this year’s Grammy Awards Sunday night was a big bore, despite being orchestrated by its producers to be anything but.
It was designed to feature unique collaborations that will never be duplicated again, and each performance was made to be a spectacle for peoples’ eyes.
The show included Green Day performing with the Broadway cast of “American Idiot,” Lady GaGa and Elton John hooking up for a duet, Pink drenching the audience with aerial acrobats, and the Black Eyed Peas getting robotic.
And judging by the ratings, the show was a huge success, because more people watched it than the previous six Grammys, demonstrating people do like the orchestration.
But ratings don’t mean a thing to me when I don’t enjoy the show. This weekend’s Super Bowl could garner the highest ratings ever, but if one team wins 45-0, then to me it won’t be worth the four hours I wasted watching it.
This year’s Grammys were a 45-0 blowout because the collaborations and eye candy completely drowned out the reason for holding the show in the first place – the music.
I haven’t missed a Grammy Show since high school, and I usually eagerly wait for it as it provides an opportunity for me to hear and see great performances from artists I like and also a chance for me to discover other artists I know little to nothing about. That even means Ricky Martin, an artist who, for a moment, became a household name after his career-making Grammy performance in 1999.
Through the years, artists like Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, U2, Stevie Wonder, Eminem, Tina Turner and Madonna have owned the Grammy stage, using it as a podium to demonstrate their greatness. Nearly every time they performed, it was usually about the music. Once in a while they did something special to enhance the song, but whatever they did, it didn’t take precedence over the song.
But a funny thing happened in 1998: “Soy Bomb.” While Bob Dylan was performing, a half-naked man unexpectedly joined him on stage with the words “Soy Bomb” written on his chest. It was crazy, but made even crazier because Dylan kept performing either unaware of the guy’s presence or unfazed by it, as though he’s seen stranger things in his storied career.
The next day “Soy Bomb” was the most talked about aspect of the show, giving show producers for the last 11 years a light-bulb moment they are still using. If an artist is paired with either an unimaginable collaborator, like Eminem and Elton John in 2001, or with interesting visuals, like Pink with a trapeze swing, water and a revealing outfit this year, then people won’t ever want to miss the Grammys.
It worked for a while, but now producers have forgotten the most important element: the music. Pink’s song was okay, but it didn’t blow me away. I was too busy thinking about the poor people below her who probably got quite wet. Green Day has always been enjoyable to watch, but with what seemed like 1,200 other people on stage, I could barely see where the band was. And the Black Eyed Peas. Don’t even get me started.
The one performance that wasn’t about the spectacle, Taylor Swift’s, featured, well, bad music. Once again, maybe I’m too old, but I don’t get her. She can’t sing. Her voice is weak and some of her notes verve into bad “American Idol” audition territory. Stevie Nicks, who joined her in the performance, quickly made people realize how terrible Swift is.
I know it’s horrible for me to say this, but I was hoping Nicks would push her off the stage and continue alone. Or if she would have been too nice to do this, Kanye West could have jumped on stage and done so, proving to the world he was right when he interrupted her acceptance speech at last year’s MTV Video Awards Show in saying others were better than her. Not just others, I’ll say, but pretty much everybody, even the guys who sang “Who Let the Dogs Out?”
Seriously, though, I don’t know why I should even care that the performance portion of the show is no longer relevant. After all, the awards portion stopped being relevant long ago. To prove this, I just need to provide one fact: the great Neil Young – one of the greatest artists of all time – finally received his first Grammy ever this year. Of course, it was for the most minor award possible, Best Boxed or Special Limited Edition Package. The packaging of this year’s Archives Box Set, not his music, was honored.
Good job Grammys. Here’s hoping next year will find you pairing Celine Dion with Smokey Robinson in a 3-D Michael Jackson tribute. Oops. You did that this year. Congratulations.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Cold Florida temperatures make northerners superheroes
Living in one of this nation’s colder states has one clear benefit: it makes us appear virtually indestructible to the feeble people living south of us in warmer states. In some warped way, it makes us superheroes.
I learned of our superhero abilities several weeks ago in Florida, when my family and I went to Disney World for a week-long vacation. During the early part of our trip, Florida was experiencing some of its coldest temperatures in more than 20 years, and natives there were in pain, deep freezing pain you could say.
Just how cold did it get? Zero degrees? Below zero?
Don’t laugh. It went down to the upper 20s during a few overnights, moving up to the lower 30s in the mornings, and only in the 50s in the afternoons.
These temperatures sound heavenly to us, especially as we experience another cold spell that brings us below-zero temperatures and colder, with the dreaded wind chill factored in, but to people accustomed to 50s as a low, they seemed like punishment from the heavens for some sin they may have committed. (If I had to speculate on the sin, one could argue punishment was finally served for the 2000 election. Both sides of the issue could then argue about the punishment being too small or too great; therefore, it would still remain an issue of debate.)
We arrived in Orlando at 10 p.m. to a balmy 30-degree temperature. I say balmy because we left Wisconsin earlier in the day with temperatures in the single digits and this temperature was already a big improvement, although it wasn’t the temperature we had been hoping for.
The next morning wasn’t any better, but it was still warm enough for us to shed the outside liners of our winter jackets, especially knowing temperatures later in the day would be like an early warm spring day in Wisconsin. None of us wore our winter caps.
At Disney’s Hollywood Studios that day, it was easy to spot the natives. They were bundled under what seemed like a closet full of their warmest clothes and still looked like they were freezing a thousand deaths.
They also complained. “It’s so cold. The world is going to end. I’d rather be in hell where I know it’s at least warmer,” natives said to us.
And then they’d see me, in just a hoodie sweatshirt having already gotten rid of the jacket after determining the temperature was too warm for it. “You must be from Minnesota,” those people would say to me.
“No, Wisconsin,” I’d answer, and they’d say something like “Close enough.” At that point in the conversation I could have gotten into a long diatribe about the many reasons Wisconsin is vastly superior to Minnesota, and why “close enough” doesn’t apply when comparing the two states, but the Favre factor came into play. For this football season, and next year too if Brett Favre doesn’t decide/undecide/decide to retire, all my grudges against the state to our west were on hold. Bashing Minnesota was not going to take place.
So instead, I simply said these temperatures seem warm to us.
It was simple, but it made me seem like a superhero to that person. I’m sure every one of them was thinking the same thing:
“Look. It’s a man without a jacket and two dozen layers of clothes. It’s a man who’s basking in this heatless sun as though he has some special ability to extract even the tiniest fringes of warmth. No, it’s Northern Man, the man whose body produces heat like a furnace and doesn’t need the sun to survive.”
Had I been single and looking, native women looking to get warm could have been mine for the taking. Of course, I would never use superhero powers for less than noble purposes, so I would have had to politely reject these women.
The next few days were similar temperature-wise, and showing off my superhero abilities was just as fun as enjoying days of 70-plus temperatures could have been. On the third day, my 4-year-old son, Braden, and I went swimming in the heated outdoor swimming pool in the morning. We were the only ones in the pool, inspiring others walking by to look at us with awe.
That was until a family from Canada decided to get in the pool with us. Whereas I kept myself in the water, because the air temperature was pretty cold, this family jumped in and out of the pool as though it were 90 degrees outside, making me seem like a superhero imposter to the people who once thought I was indestructible.
Damn Canadians.
I didn’t feel better until watching the news that night, when a segment was devoted to the local school district’s decision to allow parents to keep their kids home from school because of the cold temperatures. I guess kids there must pray for cold days, much like kids here hope for snow days.
By the next day, temperatures were nearly back to normal for Florida standards. And I was starting to feel too warm, proving every superhero has a weakness.
I learned of our superhero abilities several weeks ago in Florida, when my family and I went to Disney World for a week-long vacation. During the early part of our trip, Florida was experiencing some of its coldest temperatures in more than 20 years, and natives there were in pain, deep freezing pain you could say.
Just how cold did it get? Zero degrees? Below zero?
Don’t laugh. It went down to the upper 20s during a few overnights, moving up to the lower 30s in the mornings, and only in the 50s in the afternoons.
These temperatures sound heavenly to us, especially as we experience another cold spell that brings us below-zero temperatures and colder, with the dreaded wind chill factored in, but to people accustomed to 50s as a low, they seemed like punishment from the heavens for some sin they may have committed. (If I had to speculate on the sin, one could argue punishment was finally served for the 2000 election. Both sides of the issue could then argue about the punishment being too small or too great; therefore, it would still remain an issue of debate.)
We arrived in Orlando at 10 p.m. to a balmy 30-degree temperature. I say balmy because we left Wisconsin earlier in the day with temperatures in the single digits and this temperature was already a big improvement, although it wasn’t the temperature we had been hoping for.
The next morning wasn’t any better, but it was still warm enough for us to shed the outside liners of our winter jackets, especially knowing temperatures later in the day would be like an early warm spring day in Wisconsin. None of us wore our winter caps.
At Disney’s Hollywood Studios that day, it was easy to spot the natives. They were bundled under what seemed like a closet full of their warmest clothes and still looked like they were freezing a thousand deaths.
They also complained. “It’s so cold. The world is going to end. I’d rather be in hell where I know it’s at least warmer,” natives said to us.
And then they’d see me, in just a hoodie sweatshirt having already gotten rid of the jacket after determining the temperature was too warm for it. “You must be from Minnesota,” those people would say to me.
“No, Wisconsin,” I’d answer, and they’d say something like “Close enough.” At that point in the conversation I could have gotten into a long diatribe about the many reasons Wisconsin is vastly superior to Minnesota, and why “close enough” doesn’t apply when comparing the two states, but the Favre factor came into play. For this football season, and next year too if Brett Favre doesn’t decide/undecide/decide to retire, all my grudges against the state to our west were on hold. Bashing Minnesota was not going to take place.
So instead, I simply said these temperatures seem warm to us.
It was simple, but it made me seem like a superhero to that person. I’m sure every one of them was thinking the same thing:
“Look. It’s a man without a jacket and two dozen layers of clothes. It’s a man who’s basking in this heatless sun as though he has some special ability to extract even the tiniest fringes of warmth. No, it’s Northern Man, the man whose body produces heat like a furnace and doesn’t need the sun to survive.”
Had I been single and looking, native women looking to get warm could have been mine for the taking. Of course, I would never use superhero powers for less than noble purposes, so I would have had to politely reject these women.
The next few days were similar temperature-wise, and showing off my superhero abilities was just as fun as enjoying days of 70-plus temperatures could have been. On the third day, my 4-year-old son, Braden, and I went swimming in the heated outdoor swimming pool in the morning. We were the only ones in the pool, inspiring others walking by to look at us with awe.
That was until a family from Canada decided to get in the pool with us. Whereas I kept myself in the water, because the air temperature was pretty cold, this family jumped in and out of the pool as though it were 90 degrees outside, making me seem like a superhero imposter to the people who once thought I was indestructible.
Damn Canadians.
I didn’t feel better until watching the news that night, when a segment was devoted to the local school district’s decision to allow parents to keep their kids home from school because of the cold temperatures. I guess kids there must pray for cold days, much like kids here hope for snow days.
By the next day, temperatures were nearly back to normal for Florida standards. And I was starting to feel too warm, proving every superhero has a weakness.
Disney World trip worth every penny
A few weeks ago I wrote about some of the skepticisms I had about a planned family vacation to Disney World in Florida. Well, I’m back and happy to report the trip exceeded all my expectations, to the point that I would highly recommend everybody go there at least once in their lifetime to experience the magic that is Disney.
When I initially wrote about the vacation, I said: “I’m skeptical because I spent most of my life not liking anything Disney-related. I’m skeptical because I hate crowds. I’m skeptical because I’ve never really taken a full week off work to do something purely for enjoyment. I’m skeptical because I believe Disney has perfected the art of taking money from tourists. I’m skeptical because I think Goofy’s supposed ignorance of the reality around him is just a ruse to allow him to somehow take over the world.”
Starting with my skepticisms about Goofy and going backwards, all my preconceived notions about Disney World were disproven.
After meeting Goofy five or six times there, I can say he’s a good guy, dog, guydog or whatever he’s supposed to be, as I still can’t figure out what he is, especially given the fact Pluto, who doesn’t speak, is a dog. In person/dog, Goofy is charming in a way only someone who is completely carefree, without any bad intentions as I suspected him of having, could be. Plus his ride at the Magic Kingdom, The Barnstormer at Goofy’s Wiseacre Farm, is a gentle roller coaster even people who don’t like roller coasters should be able to enjoy.
I still agree that Disney has perfected the art of taking money from tourists, but the company has done it in such a way tourists like me will believe they are getting the best value for every dollar spent.
For example, we purchased a vacation plan that included airfare, hotel stay, park tickets and a basic meal plan that gave one quick-service meal, one sit-down meal and one snack per day to each person. This essentially amounted to an all-inclusive vacation, as other than tips and souvenirs, we didn’t need to pay for anything else.
We had plenty to eat with the meal plan and definitely got value from it. I kept track of the amount we would have paid for the food had we been paying cash, coming up with a figure of $825 for those meals and snacks. The food ranged from popcorn snacks to three-course New York strip steak dinners, and nearly every bite was good. Some of the meals included table visits from various Disney characters, including Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and Pluto, much to the pleasure of our 4-year-old son, Braden.
As for taking a week off, something I’ve never done since graduating from college nearly 13 years ago, it was a well needed break. I wasn’t sure if I could handle it, but I quickly realized I could tack another week, heck even another month or year, on it without a problem. While there, the only time my attention turned to this job was on Wednesday night, when it occurred to me that normally I’d be at The Gazette helping the staff put the week’s issue to bed, sometimes to 1 or 2 a.m.
It helped that Disney truly makes these trips as hassle-free as they possibly can for vacationers. From the bus transportation the company provides to and from the airport, to the convenient meal plan, to easy-to-use bus transportation to all of the theme parks and Downtown Disney, and to some of the friendliest and most knowledgeable staffers I’ve ever met anywhere who were quickly able to answer any questions we had about nearly anything, Disney made sure people didn’t have to use their minds too much while relaxing.
Even the crowds I feared I was going to hate weren’t a problem at Disney. It helped we went at one of the slowest times of the year there, but even if it had been busier, Disney does an excellent job of making sure even line waits are entertaining by keeping people moving and providing a lot to see no matter where you are. Many of the most popular rides at the parks even feature “FastPass,” which allows people to get tickets that let them jump to the front of the line at a specific time. This was a great timesaver and crowd avoider we used multiple times.
For a non-Disney fan like me, all four theme parks, which include Magical Kingdom, EPCOT, Animal Kingdom and Hollywood Studios, do a wonderful job of converting people. The rides at all four parks are really the best in the world, except “it’s a small world,” which is undoubtedly the worst one in the world, as the song will never leave your head after riding it.
Even better, which I wasn’t expecting at all, were the many different shows available to see. Each park has a 3-D interactive show – especially funny was a Muppets’ one at Hollywood Studios – and each park has shortened versions of popular Disney-themed Broadway musicals, including ones for “The Lion King” and “Beauty and the Beast.” The parks also have multitudes of historic presentations, cultural shows, exhibits that can’t be seen anywhere else in the world, and jaw-dropping parades and spectacles that will make even the most hardened skeptics act like children.
I’ll be honest by saying we selected Disney World as a vacation destination exclusively for Braden, as at 4 it seemed the perfect age to take him there. We couldn’t have been any more correct in our assumption, because to him Disney was truly a magical place. He was old enough to know all about the characters at Disney, yet young enough to believe they were real.
However, he questioned why some could talk, like the performing ones in front of Cinderella’s Castle, and most of the rest couldn’t. I explained it as simply as I could: they needed to save their voices for the performances. That explanation worked for him, although he questioned it when some of the face characters – the ones who weren’t suited in a costume, like Snow White and Jasmine – had no concerns about saving their voices, happily engaging him in interesting conversation.
Braden also became convinced he took an actual Mission to Mars at EPCOT, he went through a real Haunted Mansion at the Magical Kingdom, rode a truck on an African Safari at the Animal Kingdom and survived a Tower of Terror at Hollywood Studios. I’m guessing he’ll be talking about those experiences for years, as I will be, too.
After reading this, some might think Disney is paying me to write what is essentially a 1,200-word ad for them. I’d take any money they’d offer, just because I wouldn’t mind lining my pockets with a little cash to defray the costs we spent for the trip, but the words I write are no less the truth, especially since they are coming from someone who was skeptical about Disney in the first place.
We’re already planning our next Disney-themed vacation two or three years from now – a Disney cruise. I can’t wait.
When I initially wrote about the vacation, I said: “I’m skeptical because I spent most of my life not liking anything Disney-related. I’m skeptical because I hate crowds. I’m skeptical because I’ve never really taken a full week off work to do something purely for enjoyment. I’m skeptical because I believe Disney has perfected the art of taking money from tourists. I’m skeptical because I think Goofy’s supposed ignorance of the reality around him is just a ruse to allow him to somehow take over the world.”
Starting with my skepticisms about Goofy and going backwards, all my preconceived notions about Disney World were disproven.
After meeting Goofy five or six times there, I can say he’s a good guy, dog, guydog or whatever he’s supposed to be, as I still can’t figure out what he is, especially given the fact Pluto, who doesn’t speak, is a dog. In person/dog, Goofy is charming in a way only someone who is completely carefree, without any bad intentions as I suspected him of having, could be. Plus his ride at the Magic Kingdom, The Barnstormer at Goofy’s Wiseacre Farm, is a gentle roller coaster even people who don’t like roller coasters should be able to enjoy.
I still agree that Disney has perfected the art of taking money from tourists, but the company has done it in such a way tourists like me will believe they are getting the best value for every dollar spent.
For example, we purchased a vacation plan that included airfare, hotel stay, park tickets and a basic meal plan that gave one quick-service meal, one sit-down meal and one snack per day to each person. This essentially amounted to an all-inclusive vacation, as other than tips and souvenirs, we didn’t need to pay for anything else.
We had plenty to eat with the meal plan and definitely got value from it. I kept track of the amount we would have paid for the food had we been paying cash, coming up with a figure of $825 for those meals and snacks. The food ranged from popcorn snacks to three-course New York strip steak dinners, and nearly every bite was good. Some of the meals included table visits from various Disney characters, including Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and Pluto, much to the pleasure of our 4-year-old son, Braden.
As for taking a week off, something I’ve never done since graduating from college nearly 13 years ago, it was a well needed break. I wasn’t sure if I could handle it, but I quickly realized I could tack another week, heck even another month or year, on it without a problem. While there, the only time my attention turned to this job was on Wednesday night, when it occurred to me that normally I’d be at The Gazette helping the staff put the week’s issue to bed, sometimes to 1 or 2 a.m.
It helped that Disney truly makes these trips as hassle-free as they possibly can for vacationers. From the bus transportation the company provides to and from the airport, to the convenient meal plan, to easy-to-use bus transportation to all of the theme parks and Downtown Disney, and to some of the friendliest and most knowledgeable staffers I’ve ever met anywhere who were quickly able to answer any questions we had about nearly anything, Disney made sure people didn’t have to use their minds too much while relaxing.
Even the crowds I feared I was going to hate weren’t a problem at Disney. It helped we went at one of the slowest times of the year there, but even if it had been busier, Disney does an excellent job of making sure even line waits are entertaining by keeping people moving and providing a lot to see no matter where you are. Many of the most popular rides at the parks even feature “FastPass,” which allows people to get tickets that let them jump to the front of the line at a specific time. This was a great timesaver and crowd avoider we used multiple times.
For a non-Disney fan like me, all four theme parks, which include Magical Kingdom, EPCOT, Animal Kingdom and Hollywood Studios, do a wonderful job of converting people. The rides at all four parks are really the best in the world, except “it’s a small world,” which is undoubtedly the worst one in the world, as the song will never leave your head after riding it.
Even better, which I wasn’t expecting at all, were the many different shows available to see. Each park has a 3-D interactive show – especially funny was a Muppets’ one at Hollywood Studios – and each park has shortened versions of popular Disney-themed Broadway musicals, including ones for “The Lion King” and “Beauty and the Beast.” The parks also have multitudes of historic presentations, cultural shows, exhibits that can’t be seen anywhere else in the world, and jaw-dropping parades and spectacles that will make even the most hardened skeptics act like children.
I’ll be honest by saying we selected Disney World as a vacation destination exclusively for Braden, as at 4 it seemed the perfect age to take him there. We couldn’t have been any more correct in our assumption, because to him Disney was truly a magical place. He was old enough to know all about the characters at Disney, yet young enough to believe they were real.
However, he questioned why some could talk, like the performing ones in front of Cinderella’s Castle, and most of the rest couldn’t. I explained it as simply as I could: they needed to save their voices for the performances. That explanation worked for him, although he questioned it when some of the face characters – the ones who weren’t suited in a costume, like Snow White and Jasmine – had no concerns about saving their voices, happily engaging him in interesting conversation.
Braden also became convinced he took an actual Mission to Mars at EPCOT, he went through a real Haunted Mansion at the Magical Kingdom, rode a truck on an African Safari at the Animal Kingdom and survived a Tower of Terror at Hollywood Studios. I’m guessing he’ll be talking about those experiences for years, as I will be, too.
After reading this, some might think Disney is paying me to write what is essentially a 1,200-word ad for them. I’d take any money they’d offer, just because I wouldn’t mind lining my pockets with a little cash to defray the costs we spent for the trip, but the words I write are no less the truth, especially since they are coming from someone who was skeptical about Disney in the first place.
We’re already planning our next Disney-themed vacation two or three years from now – a Disney cruise. I can’t wait.
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